


Mr. Know it all had his reign and his fall

by narumei



Series: Money & Glory [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Asphyxiation, Attempt at Humor, Blood and Violence, Choking, Crimes & Criminals, Explicit Sexual Content, Kissing, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Mark Lee (NCT) is Bad at Feelings, Minor Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Qian Kun, Not Beta Read, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sadism, Shooting Guns, Shower Sex, Stabbing, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:14:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25205305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narumei/pseuds/narumei
Summary: Yuta whistled. "Aren't you scared Lucas will find out that you're here?" He began shifting himself properly in between Mark's legs."Why?"Yuta hummed in amusement. "If he knew about this, Lucas will definitely, without a doubt, kill me." He shot Mark an unfamiliar look, eyes lidded with that much of ferocity as he showed a wicked smirk.
Relationships: Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Qian Kun, Mark Lee/Nakamoto Yuta, Mark Lee/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas & Everyone
Series: Money & Glory [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1855843
Comments: 32
Kudos: 169





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The stabbing scene in this fic is written by someone (could be quoted from a book, sorry I forgot ahjsks) and I thought it was neat, ofc I changed some stuff but I did leave some of the words the way it is in this fic

Talkative, gregarious, unruly and domineering, Lucas Wong was a man who simply had it all. When he wanted something he would justify any means to have it. He had the power to destroy a life, but to also repair or remedy one. People had been jealous of him, feared him, _loved_ him—some had bowed to his side, willingly to sacrifice their own lives for the man.

And Lucas took pride in that, he protected those who were loyal to him, but he also wouldn't hesitate to kill and destroy the ones who were useless for him. Honesty was the key point to the Wong Clan & Organization, if you couldn't even be truthful to your own leader—then you were nothing but a mere of _poltroon_.

Mark had been working for the Wong Clan for a long time already, the previous leader—Lucas' father—had taken a liking to Mark's skills and fortitude. He didn't understand what was so interesting about himself, but still, the previous leader picked him.

It had been entertaining, watching Lucas from such a young age, from when they were still so awkward with one another, to the time they became partners-in-crime, to the Lucas he knew now.

Evil had rubbed his hands together in that classic way villains do, he wasn't about to pretend to be anything other than what he was. He enjoyed it, making more money, taking more power—getting what was supposed to be his. Lucas had the ability to control and manipulate the people around him, using his good-looks and reputation as its pedestal.

Things weren't getting better even after the previous leader had passed away. 

_Grief — felt like emptiness in you heart, a shear of nothingness that somehow took over and held your soul and threatened to kill you entirely. It gave you this heavy feeling that was like the weight of the world was resting on your shoulders and there was nothing you could do to get out from under it. Like a hole in your heart that was the shape of the one you lost, and that made you feel the need to wipe away any non-existent tears that you wanted to form but couldn't._

So many people had shed their tears for Mr. Wong, but Lucas — he looked so empty, so dull. His gaze was blank, the stillness and deadness within those orbs — as if like he got drowned alive. Mark stood high beside him, holding an umbrella above Lucas' head.

The rain streamed down quite heavily, yet Mark kept himself still beside the mourning lad beside him. Mark didn't say a word when he got soaked all over, the least he could do right at that moment was be there for Lucas. The other members had walked back inside their cars, while waiting patiently for Lucas and Mark to go back.

Then the next thing Mark didn't expect was to have Lucas hugging him so tightly. Mark was so startled that he instantly dropped the umbrella from his grip. Lucas' hug was so strong and tight, hugging Mark as if his own life was on the line. It was a weird feeling because Mark was wet, and Lucas was starting to get wet as well due to the heavy rain—and it was cold, so fucking cold, that Mark actually shivered under Lucas' touch.

" _Mark_ ," Lucas whispered, his voice was so weak and desperate. And as if holding Mark wasn't quite enough, Lucas had to feel every ounce that Mark was. It felt so heartbreaking, the way Lucas' arms trembled for a brief second against Mark's shoulders.

The man was breaking apart.

_Rage, pain, sadness—so intertwined that perhaps their names ought to be tweaked to reflect the true origins of those emotions._

Mark opened his eyes, from his somewhat reverie, both arms were still folded tight against his back as he stood beside Lucas' chair, waiting for an instruction from the man himself. Mark was nothing more than a visionary with a dream. He acknowledged that he had odd methods, but they worked. He knew what life should be like and he understood that many things and creatures were inferior to Lucas.

"What's the matter, Mark? You have been quiet for a while now." Lucas spoke, still reading through the documents on his desk.

"I just have been thinking," Mark turned to look elsewhere—the sun streamed through the windows, yet his mind was clouded with grey memoirs. "You're such an annoying guy, Lucas Wong."

Lucas chuckled, "Suddenly?"

Mark only gave him a side-gaze.

There were times when Lucas placed his moves and sat back for his opponent to make the move he knew they would. _Really, where was the challenge in that?_ But at least it was more fun than not playing at all. His moves were all variations on the same thing. Being rich it was simple, first — offer your "targets" money with some power mixed in it, _that pretty much worked every time_. They sold their morals, ignored their compasses for such low prices and the price was falling every day.

Mark always had to remind himself that he worked for that type of human.

Then there also times when Lucas decided to be the one doing all the evil deeds; usually when that time came, he would always turn the shit show into his own personal playground. Mark would always stand a few feet away from him, watching the victims being murdered so mercilessly. _Not that he cared anyway_.

"Hey Mark, what do you think about Jungwoo?" Lucas turned to look over him.

Mark's expression didn't change much. Flat and disinterested. "Isn't he one of your lovers or something?"

Lucas nodded with a cunning expression. "Yeah, what do you think of him?" _What the fuck is this guy trying to say?_

Mark shrugged for a moment. "Dunno. Not really my business anyway."

"Do you approve of our relationship?"

_I don't care, man._ "Sure, whatever." Mark spoke, rather feeling forced.

Lucas made a fake disappointment noise. "You're so cold hearted, Mark." He pretended to be hurt, hands were pressing over his heart. Mark showed a disgusted expression, which then only made Lucas laugh in return.

* * *

The knife met flesh, soft and pudgy, and made a satisfying squish as the tip of the blade sank deep enough to make the victim scream. Lucas twisted the blade in his hands, all the while sinking it deeper and deeper. His coat and face were stained with blood, and Mark only watched Lucas near the car, eyes narrowing at the victim before him. The victim's skin was tearing to shreds as the knife rotated, the sound of muscles and nerves being gouged growing louder. Then, without warning, Lucas jerked it all the way into the victim's back, until the shiny metal had disappeared inside them and the black handle was pushing against their broken skin. Their cry was a brilliant sound, guttural chokes mixed with an agonized roar.

If it was anyone else, they probably would've felt nauseous. Mark only watched the body being driven into a paining madness right in front of him. He took a moment to slip over his sleeve, checking on the time in his wristwatch before he looked back at Lucas and his _target_.

Lucas smirked, and pulled the blade out of his now deathly paled victim. They sank to their knees, continuing to scream, convulsing and trembling like a rabid animal and thick blood flowing freely from the gaping hole in their back. Lucas finally turned away when their plead for mercy became quieter.

Mark sighed at that. "Shall we go now?"

And the next thing he knew — his body was being slammed against the car's door, Lucas saw the shock register on Mark's face before the latter could hide it. A wicked smile played on Lucas' lips, he liked that reaction a lot more than he had expected. Senses sharpened with adrenaline, Mark held his breath for a brief second, before Lucas had slammed his lips to his and almost knocked all the warm oxygen from his lungs.

Lucas' lips brushed Mark's. Not gently, like a tease but hot, fiery, passionate and demanding. Mark had the desire to kill him suddenly. He wanted to push Lucas away before he lost himself, but he knew the man wouldn't budge. Lucas pressed his tongue to the seam of Mark's lips, his bloody hand was cupping the smaller's chin, his tongue delved into Mark's mouth. It was a very sloppy and bruising kiss, Lucas kept trying to bite and graze the other's lip as he continued tightening his grip like he was trying to crush Mark's cheekbones.

The blood on Lucas' face flowed like a lazy river. It flowed down until it touched Mark's lips, the latter cursed in his head, unable to resist any longer—he grabbed Lucas' collar, pulling the man even closer as he drew his tongue over Lucas' teeth and swallowed Lucas' groan of pleasure against his mouth.

The blood on Mark's mouth gave a metallic taste; bittersweet and cold, leaking against his tongue and over his teeth. Mild crimson liquid mixing with their salivas, succulent and delicate. There's a smell, an odor. They slid even closer to each other, no visible gap between them. Mark could feel the slight burn against his mouth when Lucas had yanked Mark's face upwardly, his nape touching against the strong glass window behind him.

So forceful and demanding, like everything wasn't enough for him, full of bites and hard puffs. Consuming Mark's breath and swelling Mark's red, enthrall lips. Without mercy, Lucas rolled his tongue and seeped down Mark's throat with every push of the smaller's tongue against his.

Lucas' tongue felt strong and firm, something like a muscular eel worming it's way into his mouth. If Mark could describe their kiss—it was wet, rough, and lascivious. The moment the blood stained knife had fallen from Lucas' other hand, they finally pulled apart— _fuck, Mark had the urge to fucking choke or kick him now._

His hot breath mingled with Mark's as they stared at each other, both of them a little unsteady. Lucas was still propping Mark's chin, brushing his finger over the thick saliva on the other's skin. Something evaporated from Lucas' eyes, wicked and illicit — it easily gave Mark a mindfuck.

"I love you," Lucas confessed, _it wasn't the first time_. "I love you a lot."

"I know." Mark hushed.

Lucas sank his face against Mark neck, it was frustrating for Lucas — the thought of Mark could be anyone's but his, it made him angry. Desire and hunger glowed in his dark, starry orbs while he held Mark against him.

This man was _his_.

"You're mine." Lucas muttered against Mark's throat.

Mark's body went rigid when he felt Lucas' teeth teasing, grazing over his flesh. Lucas' breath was curling against the skin just beneath his ear, Mark quivered against the friction, feeling a hot breeze flowing over his neck, he grimaced when he felt the tender brush of Lucas' tongue, burning and moist.

"You know this is not how we work things," Mark sighed, wanted to press a hand against his temple.

"What do you mean?" Lucas bit Mark's pulse point.

"This is not proper nor professional." Mark admitted.

Lucas chuckled at that. "And this is the part I will say I fucking hate you, Mark Lee." He pierced in his teeth, ignoring Mark's sudden hiss. "It's only you that I want, but _fuck_ , you're so difficult to have. It's always been that way when I'm with you."

Mark groaned in pain. "Maybe we're just not meant to be, Lucas."

* * *

Lucas was a tall, handsome young man — it had been no surprise that many women, even men wanted to associate themselves with him — whether it was for his looks, power, or money. Everyone wanted to be with him, even if it meant they were only being used as an accessory by Lucas.

It was crazy, but still, it wasn't Mark's place to speak out his mind. It wasn't his business to begin with. Everyone knew that Lucas was a Casanova, did they care though? _No_. All Lucas had to do was sweet-talking them and all of the sudden they're already on his feet, begging for more of his attention.

And since Mark had always been by his side (it was always been his duty), there were also times when he ended up serving those people around Lucas. Gave them some teas, snacks—even though Lucas already had enough servants and maids to do that kind of job.

Though really, Mark couldn't give a fuck. It was probably only Lucas trying to pay him back or something — _That guy is full of shit_.

But as time went on, everything got even worse. His playboy antics started to actually hurt people. Mark didn't see it happen, _never will_ , but he heard it clearly. Their rooms were across from each other, which meant it wasn't too difficult for Mark to hear Lucas fucking his lovers — and whenever it became too loud, Mark just decided to leave and take a stroll far away from their rooms until everything quietened down. It's awkward for the first few times, but eventually Mark became used to it.

However, there was one time when Mark went back to check up on the situation (whether he could go back inside his room or not), what he didn't expect was to see — with concerned eyes, as a familiar coral haired guy was being kicked out of Lucas' room, teary and humiliated. _Jungwoo_?, Mark thought as he watched the man sob before guards tried to comfort and escorted him away from Lucas' bedroom.

Mark was confused, his chest ached for a few seconds. It was heartbreaking.

At first Mark didn't think much of it, probably just another couple quarrel or anything sort of. After a week, he saw Jungwoo passed the guards and went back inside Lucas' room — but because Mark was still wary and unsure about the previous situation, he decided to wait, he stood by Lucas' door, leaning his back against the wall beside the door. What he didn't expect was hearing a hysterical scream coming out of Lucas' room, it was so loud and clear — Mark was sure half of the people in that floor had heard it with him.

At the end, Mark decided to walk away. His heart was thumping like crazy as he reminded himself that it wasn't his problem. Lucas' affairs weren't a part of something Mark had to deal with in Lucas' life — it was his own private matter, Mark didn't have a right to say anything about it.

After that, whenever Mark saw someone familiar (whether it was Jungwoo or Donghyuck or Yuqi or _whoever_ ), he decided to step back and walked away.

Mark was tired of all the bullshit Lucas was doing.

At one point, he tried to contact Yuta about it.

" _Mark, baby! It's been a while since the last time I heard from you~_ " The man answered his call with that familiar, flirtatious tone.

Mark cleared his throat. "I got a situation."

Yuta chuckled onto his phone. " _Is it about Lucas? Did he do something dumb again?_ "

"More like something horrible than dumb," Mark sighed.

" _Sweetheart, that's just how your man is,_ " The man spoke with a conspicuous tone.

"He's not my man!" Mark hissed.

Yuta whistled, and Mark could practically feel the other's smirk spreading out so quickly. " _What's the problem anyway?_ "

And so, Mark began to explain everything to Yuta—even though he knew, Yuta might not be so useful after all; but it wouldn't hurt to give him a try.

Yuta started to be more serious after that, he said it was fine — as long as the guy didn't cross the line. Lucas was in a rebellious, moody phase; Yuta's words. When Yuta was Lucas' age, he experienced the same stuff (" _Not to the extent I have to kick someone out nor make them cry though_ ," Yuta said " _But as long as he doesn't do something harmful like punching or hitting them, for now I suggest you to let him be._ " He continued)

However, it happened again, again, again, and again. Each of them cried, leaving Lucas' bedroom with such a sad expression — even the guards felt bad for them.

It made Mark question — are all casanovas like that? Do they all go through that kind of phase? _What the fuck?_ Everything was so confusing.

With no one was brave enough to stop him, Lucas continued his wrongdoings. Men and women, older and younger, at this point Lucas just did everything he wanted without care. As long as you could be entertaining and pleasure him, nothing really mattered. And it became quite saddening, for Mark and the other guards in that floor. They had heard and witnessed so much tears, pain, heartbreaks that had walked out of Lucas' chamber.

Mark knew that he shouldn't butt in. But really, why the hell should he listen to Yuta anyway?

He decided to stop in front of Lucas when the latter had finished his horse lesson, Mark decided to drag him to somewhere private and discrete, he told Lucas that he needed to talk about something with him.

"Lucas, do you know what you're doing?" Mark questioned, trying to sound as calm as possible. "Do you know what you're doing to those people?" He repeated.

Lucas didn't know what Mark was implying to, he only cocked his head to the side and stared at Mark with a puzzled expression. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Mark."

Mark clicked his tongue, running a hand against his hair. He needed to stay chill and collected, he shouldn't scream at Lucas— _as much as he wanted to_.

"Jungwoo? I'm sure this man ring a bell inside your head." Mark continued, eyes turning firm and icy.

"What's up with him?" Lucas lifted an eyebrow.

"Isn't he one of the people you sleep with?" Mark stepped forward, eyes glowering at the man before him. "Idiot, why are you doing this? Why do you give them love just to throw them away like garbage? You make all of us worried for no shit, even the guards are concerned about those outsiders. Lucas, what the fuck are you doing?" His voice felt so heavy, it was the first time for him to actually scold Lucas like this. _It was stupid_.

But then he saw the way Lucas' orbs gleamed with excitement, and it made Mark felt sick all over, Lucas tried to cover his lips as he laughed at the bundle of madness that it was Mark.

"You say that but they're the ones who keep coming back to me, _Markie_." Lucas emphasized the nickname, sneering at the way Mark's expression fell into something even more hateful.

"Then try to refuse them, you sick fuck." Mark said, outburst of profanity.

"Why should I?" Lucas hummed, lidded eyes and mocking gaze. "What if I don't want to?"

"You–" Mark bit his lip, hand clenching into a fist. This felt so frustrating, all he wanted to do was to bury Lucas alive right then and there.

The ferocity in Lucas' eyes felt more visible now.

"Then," He paused. "Are you willing to replace them?" Lucas asked.

Mark's expression suddenly turned into a bundle of confusion. All he could do was stare at Lucas.

"Are you willing to take their place, Mark?" And Lucas stepped closer.

Mark noticed and decided to move a few steps back.

Lucas chuckled at that.

He grinned, "Then I have no reason to stop." After that, the taller turned his heels and left Mark to be on his own world.

_Fuck. I'm gonna fucking kill you one day._

Mark thought as he scratched his hair frustratedly.

* * *

Various clothes scattered hazily on the background, messy and disorganized. The large couch moved quickly—making a loud squeaking sound accompanied by their groans and moans, all mixed up, and it was almost like Mark just wanted to sink in to this pleasure.

The adrenaline pumped right through him as he looked up at Yuta's solemn expression — eyes black as currants, the usual playfulness on his sharp features were no where to be seen. Mark watched breathlessly as his eyes studied Yuta's gaze that was so full of intensity. The older's warm breath ghosted on his face.

Yuta darted forward, pressed his lips to Mark's and it nearly took every parts of Mark’s soul not to react to how moist and hot Yuta's mouth was, the strong scent of sweet alcohol was lingering on the air, the older was ravishing his mouth—full of groans and teeth, his fingers slid toward Mark's hair, yanking him ever so slightly as he pounded harder inside the younger's heat.

Mark moaned, eyes rolled back in pleasure. It's been a while since the last time he had a good fuck—but really, he never expected to be fucked by the head boss of another clan. It sent chills running down his spine, remembering the way their body touched with one and another, Yuta beside him; talking and joking around, the glass of alcohol waggling on his hand—and the next thing Mark knew, Yuta's hands were already all over his body, pulling Mark closer to get a taste the man had always been craving for.

Lucas was out of the country, he said he'd be back after a week or two, and because of that; Mark had been jobless and _so_ bored. He wanted some type of entertainment, maybe getting loose too, either way was good.

When Yuta's lips brushed against his for the first time, Mark had expected something more compassionate and exciting. It felt tender at first, the way Yuta's fingers ghosted against his throat whilst his other hand was gently gripping on Mark's waist. But then he began to drag Mark inside one of the bedrooms there, his perfectly styled hair became a mess, pushing Mark against the nearest couch — his sweet, delicate aura changed into something more menacing. The man's eyes glowed with desire and needs.

Their mouths and tongues clashed roughly, their teeth opening up some wounds, messy and uncoordinated. Yuta didn't take the time to consider nor think about anything else other than his own cravings. And Mark had expected it, he had expected the tyrannous treatments from someone like Yuta. Roughly raked his fingers over Mark's chest, his nails digging for exposure, with a single groan Yuta started to remove Mark's clothes.

"Impatient much?" Mark had said to light up the mood. Yuta was being a despot and it might got worse.

Yuta tilted his head, his deep wicked laugh rolled out so easily, making Mark gulp in anticipation. He was too far gone anyway, stopping now won't be an option for either of them. Mark could feel Yuta's gaze on him, watching him breathing so carefully as the man started pulling off his own clothes, even ripping it slightly. Mark swore he wasn't scared, but that was not how it seemed when Yuta suddenly caged Mark's body and gave him a startle.

Mark watched as Yuta smiled darkly, his eyes were flooded with lust and hunger. The man dived against Mark's neck, pampering it with kisses before he began biting and sucking marks into his flesh. Mark gasped for air, hands coming up to grip on Yuta's shoulder blades, pain and droplets blooming through his neck. Yuta's tongue licked that trail of blood all the way to Mark's jaw and the underside of his chin.

_Apparently Yuta had a thing for necks, especially Mark's._

Mark closed his eyes, the heat was rushing to his face as he felt Yuta's digit brushing over his entrance, the lube was doing a perfect job, Mark moaned with a mix of pain and pleasure when Yuta decided to force another finger inside his slot.

"Fuck," Mark cursed breathlessly.

Yuta's fingers were reaching much deeper than Mark had anticipated. Maybe because Yuta knew what he wanted from the start, maybe he knew what he was doing to Mark. The younger was shaking against the friction, but his legs stayed spread enough so Yuta could roll his fingers with ease.

There was a hand that wrapped carefully around Mark's throat, knocking his breath out of him slowly. He saw a smirk spreading out on Yuta's lips, feral and dangerous. A chill went down Mark's spine as he knew where this was going.

Yuta's digits were moving faster, the pace of his thrusting enough to make Mark's legs shake. The younger hissed, he felt the burning sensation conquered around his throat, Yuta was pressing harder at the sides of his neck. Under those predatory eyes, Mark groaned and stashed his head around, hoping that the grip on his throat would be loosen up.

Yuta chuckled, raised an eyebrow with amusement all over his face. The older only tightened his hold, forcing Mark to stare back at him as he started digging his nails against that pale, soft looking neck. Mark gasped, tears started to form on his eyes. Yuta loomed forward, pressing a kiss to Mark's lips. The younger couldn't speak; not with the force over his throat, not with the way Yuta had brushed his lips against Mark's — it hurt not to be able to breathe, it nearly felt like Yuta was trying to drown him alive. And Mark couldn't do anything about it, because he couldn't fucking _speak_.

It's hard to focus on getting enough oxygen in a situation like this; how could he? How could he focus on breathing when Yuta didn't even allow him to? He moaned against the older's mouth, feeling those slender fingers pushing deeper inside of him, spreading him out so relentlessly.

Yuta wasn't being merciful with the way he fingered Mark, and Mark was starting to get used to the roughness. The more Yuta's hand tightened around Mark's throat, the more they felt like Yuta's fingers were being sucked in.

Mark's body was weakening, but Yuta didn't care. The older only continued to devour Mark's lips, tracing every inch of his cavern and soft sipping Mark's tongue. Yuta loosened his grip on Mark's neck — yet still holding him tight on his place, before the older tried to deepen the intense kiss.

When they pulled apart, a drop of tear had fallen down Mark's cheek—along with the string of saliva between their lips. Mark tried to speak with what little oxygen he had, barely muttered Yuta's name with his drowned voice.

At that moment Mark actually got it. Yuta had a asphyxiation kink — _as expected from a sadistic bastard_.

Mark's hands moved to Yuta's forearm, tugging tightly to move him — telling him a sign that it was more than _enough_. Mark’s eyes blinked for a moment, and his mouth opened wide, trying to search for air. All Yuta had to do was watch Mark fell victim against the friction of his rough hand.

It was so obvious that Yuta was enjoying the view before him.

"You look beautiful like this, Mark." Yuta husked against Mark's ear, and just like that, Yuta's slick fingers were gone. Then as a reward, his other hand finally let go of Mark's neck.

"I could've fucking died, shit," Mark cursed, gasping for air as he crashed his head back against the cushion.

"But you didn't." Yuta chuckled, his lips curved into a playful grin. And Mark understood it, the tactics Yuta was trying to pull — acting all sweet and gleeful, as if he didn't just try to kill Mark right on the spot.

"What are you even doing here?" Mark questioned.

"I was looking for my _kitten_ ," Yuta spoke, in that cotton-candied voice, so delicate and sweet, yet there was something hidden underneath that surface. And Mark wasn't stupid, by the look on Yuta's face, it was obvious that he was referring to Mark.

"I got bored, so I went here," Mark simply answered.

Yuta whistled. "Aren't you scared Lucas will find out that you're here?" He began shifting himself properly in between Mark's legs.

"Why?"

Yuta hummed in amusement. "If he knew about this, Lucas will definitely, without a doubt, kill me." He shot Mark an unfamiliar look, eyes lidded with that much of ferocity as he showed a wicked smirk.

Mark moaned when he felt Yuta's length pushed into his rim in one go. His body trembled ever so slightly, feeling the way Yuta's thick member slowly pushing deeper inside of him, filling Mark up nice and full. Yuta gripped against the younger's hips, hard and painful. Mark felt Yuta's warm breath ghosting over his bare skin. Yuta let out a throaty groan, forcing himself even deeper until he managed to push all the way inside of him, officially balls deep within him. Mark could practically feel the way Yuta's length twitched impatiently, eager to move and fuck.

A loud groan escaped from Mark's lips as Yuta's hips snapped back for one time before slamming in forward.

"For now, let's have some fun, my beloved kitten~" Yuta smiled devilishly at Mark.

Mark gasped out when he felt Yuta's thrusts became more vigor, picking up the pace, his hips snapping back and forth relentlessly. Harder, rougher, faster, Yuta's shaft began to absolutely pound into him, scraping his walls, plowing into the swollen nectar.

" _Hyung!_ " Mark screamed, mouth already salivating. "Fucking slow down!"

And that's how he ended hooking up with Yuta Nakamoto in one of his days off.

* * *

Lucas' eyes collected and bored tragically every wrongdoing that had been poured upon him, the lips smiled but those eyes were already beyond madness to get through. His black hair, neatly combed — with all the contained rage in his body others were surprised that the mansion house was still in tact. Cracking his neck and knuckles, as he lunged forward—punching the underside of Hendery's jaw.

"You're so fucking useless, Kunhang." Lucas spoke monotonously. "You had one job, yet you failed me once again."

He tugged on Hendery's shirt, facing him upwards to give Lucas a chance to smash Hendery's nose — the sweet tang of blood tingling in his nostrils as he cried out in pain. Hendery didn't even remember what job he had failed in, he only knew his boss was looking at him with daggers in his eyes — seething with rage.

Lucas slammed Hendery's head against the wall, letting the loud crash echoed by its own.

More blood. So much blood.

"Lucas! Stop! You're going to kill him!" Mark yelled out as he watched the horrifying scene unfolded right before him. Lucas ignored Mark and continued slamming Hendery's head over the wall—until the white paint turned crimson. The man gargled and belched blood to all over his shirt, Mark widened his eyes in panic— _fuck fuck fuck_.

He dashed over their side, pulling Lucas away from the scared and bloodied Hendery. Mark gritted his teeth as he dragged Lucas away by his collar. "Mark, why are you helping him?! Usually you would just ignore who I plan to kill!"

Yes, that's true. Mark wouldn't deny it. But this time it was different, he felt like he needed to defend Hendery because this wasn't entirely his fault.

"Lucas, calm down. I told you I'm fine, the bullet didn't even hit me." Mark tried to reason with him.

"I told him to protect you and he couldn't even do that?!" Lucas glowered, his vision was red, still glancing over to Hendery. "Mark, you almost died! If this guy had done his job properly, you wouldn't even end up in a such situation!"

Mark sighed, gripping against the front of Lucas' shirt.

"Lucas, look at me!" Mark exclaimed. "I'm still breathing, aren't I?"

And he did, Lucas stared at Mark; foreheads touching against one and another. Mark could practically hear Lucas' ragged breaths — his eyes beamed with lunacy as Mark continued staring at those dark painted hollow.

"I don't know what I will do if you leave me too, Mark." Lucas spoke, more calmly.

Mark gave a sign to Doyoung and Jeno—who just appeared in the background—to actually help moving Hendery out of the room. He planned to talk and give the man a few days off, plus a lot of extra cash.

"Please," Lucas sounded more desperate, perhaps a bit needy. "Please don't ever leave me, Mark."

Mark smiled softly, clasping his hands on either side of Lucas' face. He needed to really calm Lucas first —Mark's thumbs caressed his cheeks as their warm breaths mingled with one and another. Lucas leaned in, kissed Mark and the world immediately fell away. It felt nothing like any of their previous kisses, this time it was tender, slow and soft, comforting in so many ways.

Lucas' fingers gently ran down Mark's spine, pulling him closer until there was no space nor gap left between them as he could feel the thumping of his heart beat against Mark's chest.

Mark's warmth was more than enough to calm every inch of his own being.

* * *

Mark liked to sit outside when he typed, laptop laying on a table as he was provided with a cup of coffee. He barely used his own private office because he had to take care of Lucas twenty-four and seven (unless Lucas had been tasked to bring someone else, mayhap an advisor like Doyoung or a discussant like Ten, then obviously Mark wouldn't be needed), Mark was already used to this type of lifestyle — most of the time when he's working on his documents or any other files, he would nearly always end up finishing them on Lucas' private balcony. It was near Lucas' office, the place was huge and large.

Mark settled himself on the comfortable sofa, checking on the document Doyoung had sent to him. It had been a month since the night he hooked up with Yuta, Mark was glad the marks on his body had long gone before Lucas actually came back to Korea, it's also been a while since the last time he saw Hendery's face. Mark sighed, slurping his warm coffee for a moment.

Yuta had called him, asked and checked about Mark's condition.

Mark settled the cup back on the table, staring through the dark reflection, it made him feel lonely and mellow for unknown reason. Mark looked around and shook his head slowly.

He still needed to finish reading this article, Lucas' schedule was packed for the next few days — Mark had to make a report soon before Lucas make any type of conclusion in his next meeting. It almost seemed like Mark's job was to assist Lucas, making sure everything went smoothly.

The previous leader had taught Mark a lot of things, including the stuff a personal guard like Mark wouldn't usually do. Mr. Wong was a nice guy, and Mark respected him more than anyone in this world. He had promised the man that he would always protect Lucas, by all means.

But there were times when Mark didn't understand Lucas' thought of process. Like an overprotective boyfriend, he would always jump to be Mark's armor whenever Mark was in 'danger', despite knowing damn well that it was part of Mark's job—even when Mark got hurt, it's all on himself.

Mark was unaware of how much time was passing, but when his reverie suddenly shattered and he was pulled back into reality; slowly he became aware of a familiar misty scent. A tobacco. Mark lifted his gaze to find the source of the scent and focused in on it immediately, _Lucas_.

The man stood about ten feet from him, walking near the railing. Lucas took a deep drag of a cigarette whilst glancing over his shoulder, obviously throwing Mark a look. His black, styled hair was swaying ever so slightly. Mark watched him leaning against the hard iron, his forearms touching the cold silver colored base.

"Shall I leave?" Mark offered.

Lucas shook his head, turning his face to the side. "Stay."

And Mark did.

He decided to take a good glimpse of what may be the status of his report on his laptop.

Lucas stood pensively in his spot, staring at the beautiful sky, it was as dark and sparkly as he always remembered. He blew out a small stream of smoke, it lingered a bit before it disappeared. Lucas secretly thought that it didn't taste the same way, without a few sips of beer between drags. _But still, it worked_.

"Mark, why can't you ever reciprocate my feelings?" Lucas asked, without thinking.

Mark stopped and lifted his head again. "What do you mean?"

"I hate this," Lucas turned his body around, leaning his back against the railing. "This aching pain in my chest. It's always because of you."

And Mark didn't have the right answer to that. Sure they had kissed and hugged, but Mark knew he couldn't be what Lucas wanted him to be. _He shouldn't_.

"Lucas, you know this is—"

"This is a job for you. That's all you ever think of. A job, a duty, something you must do." Lucas spoke with that much little rage in his voice. Lucas Wong wasn't typically the kind of man who would always keep his promises and loved people more than his heart could handle. He was a renowned playboy, who barely cared for anyone outside of his clan.

Lucas felt tired, faking his words and affection toward the people he didn't even like from the get go. All he wanted was Mark's attention, and _maybe_ honesty.

"Are you saying that _you_ being with _me_ is merely a job for you?" Lucas threw his cigarette on the floor, stomping it harshly. "It's not because you want to? But because it's a job for you? _That's it?_ " He snarled. Lucas was hurt, his chest ached so uncomfortably.

It was heartbreaking for Mark, to see such a sight before him — and he was the cause of it.

"Lucas, listen," Mark began. "You're precious for me. If being with you is merely a job, you wouldn't have become my friend, you wouldn't become someone so dear to me."

"Then why?" Lucas husked, voice was so low that if they weren't alone Mark wouldn't believe it was Lucas' voice.

"It's not like I dislike you or anything," Mark showed a weak smile. "But for me personally, being by your side, knowing that you're happy and healthy it's more than enough for me."

Lucas' voice cracked as he laughed. "It might be enough for you, but it's not enough for me."

"Lucas.."

His eyes; a well of jet black ink, held a gaze more fearsome than any animals. Without warning, Lucas slid his hand over a gun so loosely, his finger gently pressed against the trigger sending a bullet centimeters away from Mark's face and through the blinds behind Mark, colliding with the rough glass until everything had shattered apart. Lucas cocked his head, a devilish smirk made its way to his lips. Mark didn't even flinch. There was nothing.

"I hope you also liked that type of adrenaline, Mark."

_The fuck?_

"What?"

Lucas swirled the pistol around his fingers.

"Was it good? Was _he_ being any good to you, Mark Lee?"

And just like that, Mark froze.

"Maybe I should kill him one day,"

"Don't." Mark prompted. "Don't touch him, Lucas."

"The adrenaline rush was amazing, wasn't it?"

"Yuta hyung didn't do anything wrong. It was only a one time thing."

Lucas rolled his eyes.

"Why are you defending him?"

"Lucas," Mark took a deep breath. "Who fucking told you?"

"Hendery did."

_What?_ "Huh?"

"You know, Kunhang."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm scared, hyung." Mark spoke truthfully. "I'm scared of what love might do to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay ahxjsksk I just finished my registration in my university (finally) and as you all can see, this fic is actually getting longer than I expected it to be ahjxksk so I decided to add another chapter, but since I don’t want chapter 2 to get toooo long  
> ヽ(´ー`)ノ I will just fill up everything in the third one—so stay tuned y’all uwu
> 
> Beware of spelling/grammar errors! (I wrote this at 2 am rippp)

Some humans were just too overbearing and foolish—the asinine remarks they loved to state so much, feeling as if they were the most superior creatures in this planet. They forgot how the cycle of life works, little did they know—the food chain will continue to run even without their presence. They act as if humans were the only creatures entitled to everything on earth.

They had a tendency to judge people only from the surface they saw and heard, not from understanding what really existed and happened. They had a habit to have unrealistic expectations of other human beings. An expectation is a knife that if not neatly arranged, not carefully grasped, not used wisely—will only hurt yourself.

They were addicted to throwing pain and difficulties, yet they didn't want to feel that same form of 'affliction'. Yet often, the pain or injury that was caused by their own carelessness was being thrown as someone else's fault or wrongdoing.

There were indeed people who had the nature of finding fault in others. Some used their intelligence and abilities in doing that. Some could only use their stupidity. Then, plus arrogance and inability to appreciate, they started throwing insults, and bring some bullets to drop.

Whatever they said, however they treated you, know that life will respect those who have tried, not those who were unaware of their position, who were nobody, who felt themselves too 'cool and great' to cast criticism and judgment on the efforts of others. After all, most of them did that because deep down—they were afraid, or jealous, or didn't know the meaning of appreciation — _or_ never get an award, or project their failure and incompetence.

Problems, accusations, slanders, betrayals, illnesses, and disappointments teach the ego's humility and the purity of each soul.

Without knowing what kind of face Mark should put on, without knowing what to say, he sat on the edge of the water fountain in silence. Beside him, there were two unopened soda cans and a half-packed of cigarettes. Yuta was also still silent, sucking in the cigar between his fingers before he exhaled the smoke. Under the moonlit, Yuta looked like that much of a royalty—his sharp features, styled silver hair, firm jaw, and his fierce gaze that always seemed to have something to say.

Mark sat there for a few minutes, hands slowly clenching tight against his lap as he stared into space. His mind wandered, thoughts drifting off into memoirs he wasn't fond of. He sighed heavily.

Yuta took out a small folded paper from his leather jacket, opened it, then showed it to Mark's face. Even though there were street lights around them, Mark didn't know what was written there. He leaned forward a little, squinted, then he saw a few numbers. When Mark looked at the last column, he realized there was a stamp on it.

"What is this?" Mark questioned.

Yuta lifted the cigar from his lips. "A Lottery ticket."

Mark blinked his eyes for a brief moment. "You won?!"

"What? You've never won something like this before?" Yuta grinned as he put the paper on Mark's lap.

"Why are you giving it to me??" Mark knitted his eyebrows in confusion.

"Why not?" Yuta snorted.

"It's just—"

"There's a 1.000.000 won in that paper you're holding," Yuta interrupted. "Cheer up, okay? I have noticed how uneasy you're these days, if it's because of work, why don't you get more drinks? Or go to parties? Or maybe get yourself a vacation? Anything is fine." He tapped Mark's cheek for a few times.

With parted lips, and a puzzled look, Mark didn't know how to answer that. Mark wasn't used to something like this—he wasn't used to Yuta's surprisingly warm and caring gesture. The younger could see Yuta tried averting his eyes away, quietly. Letting out a low cough as he pulled the cigar back into his lips, Mark finally understood it. Yuta didn't want to be questioned, he had hoped for Mark to just accept it and be done with it.

It was endearing in the most tender way, it had been a while since the last time he saw Yuta being all coy and bashful like now.

Mark laughed softly at him.

He folded the paper, then carefully stored it inside his pocket jeans. Mark looked at the cans next to him and huffed before he grabbed one for himself. Yuta was still busy enjoying his nicotine — exhaling it after a few seconds later to let out a cloud of smoke. Mark popped the soda can before he began to take a sip.

Mark watched the stars beaming above his head, adorning the dark horizon. One of his palms leaned back to touch the cold layer of the seat he was settling on, keeping himself from falling onto the water fountain behind him. Mark nearly belched as soon as Yuta's head touched Mark's shoulder — a grunt escaped from the older's lips when he pushed the other can of soda and the packet of cigarettes away from Mark.

Mark awkwardly leaned his body to the side, letting Yuta adjusted himself. The younger didn't say anything about it. He wasn't even surprised when Yuta had circled his arm around the other's waist, trying to pull him _somewhat_ closer.

"What problems are ailing you, Mark?" Yuta asked, voice above a whisper.

"Lucas found out about us." Mark sighed, gulping on his drink.

Yuta chuckled, shaking his cigarette stump for a moment. "Of course he would, it's Lucas we're talking about here. The man is territorial as hell, he reminds me so much of _my dear_ Winwin." He emphasized some of the words mockingly in his own joking manner. "Sometimes I feel bad for Kun."

Mark shrugged. "Lucas has no reason to be territorial of me. It's not like I have anywhere else to go anyway, I've been working with the Wongs for a long time now."

"Oh, _kitten_ ," Yuta rolled out so skittishly. "I don't know whether you're naive, oblivious, or just really dumb."

Mark shot him a confused look. "What?"

"Let me ask you a question, sweetheart." Yuta grinned. "What kind of person is Lucas to you?"

Mark hummed for a brief second. "I don't know how to explain it without sounding weird, or whatever. Lucas...he...he reminds me of a brave, cute, loyal dog." Mark smiled at the thought. "Someone extremely endearing and precious, someone you feel like you want to protect. He fussed whenever things didn't go the way he wanted, but still managed to secure everything under his control. Sometimes I don't agree with his methods, and sometimes he doesn't agree with my methods. But at the end, we're still gonna be there for each other—despite how different and conflicted we are."

"In short," Yuta stubbed out the cigar on the ground. "Lucas is basically, someone extremely important to you, isn't he?"

Mark nodded. "Indeed."

Yuta smiled, both hands on either side of Mark's cheeks, turning the latter to actually face him. Mark showed a surprised look, though he didn't say anything about it — Yuta brushed his fingers against the soft and tender-looking surface, chuckled at the way Mark's expression fell into something even more bewildered.

"He's in love with you, Mark." Yuta stated.

"I–" Mark took a moment to respond. "I know."

"Do you not feel the same way?" Yuta questioned bluntly.

Mark gasped when he felt Yuta's nose touching against his, they were only a few inches away, Mark could feel his own breath hitching slowly as he stared at those beautiful black orbs, sharp and strong—always knew what they wanted when they saw it.

"I don't know," Mark barely managed.

Those demanding eyes reminded him too much of Lucas.

"What do you mean _don't know?_ " Yuta spoke in a silvery voice.

"I don't know, I have never imagine a life without him, seeing his smile and happiness are more than enough for me." Mark answered. "I have never been in a serious relationship before, I don't know the right way to love someone, I don't understand the concept of it. Lucas said it before, that he loves me and he wants me to be with him. But truth be told, I don't even know what love really means to him, _and to me_."

Yuta nodded, listening to Mark with a tender look.

"It's crazy in my opinion, how love can turn someone into something so unknown. It made them look weak, hurt, and broken in a peak of a moment. When I see that, it makes me feel unsure, about myself and what I actually feel. Because no matter what happens in this life, I have to protect Lucas with all what I have." _And it's not just a duty_ , Mark really wanted to add. "I had seen it before, the way his eyes fell into something more suffocating and hurtful, spouting words angrily with a sad look on his face until he finally torn apart and blew up. Is that what love does to people, hyung? Because I don't want to experience the same thing." Mark explained with a weak smile.

Yuta sighed, pressing their foreheads together.

"Mark, love is elusive. You can't analyze nor study it. It's not something you can just see and assume, love is more than that—more than a heartbreak in a summer field, more than a rejection in a cold December, more than just a complicated emotion." Yuta smiled at him. "The love you see that time is from the form of pain. That's why it _looked_ so sad and displeasing. I'm sure no one wants to feel that type of emotion."

"I'm scared, hyung." Mark spoke truthfully. "I'm scared of what love might do to me."

Mark's own understanding of love — it's a labyrinth of emotions driven by the explosive concoction of dopamine, norephinephrine, and serotonin; stripping you of your right to think and diving headfirst into a panic-struck fever that made its home into your mind, gluttonizing into your sense of logic.

Yuta chuckled softly. "Then let me ask you this, will you be truly happy if Lucas ends up with someone else?"

"I...I'm not sure, hyung." Mark sighed. "I don't ever wanna be selfish, if being with them makes Lucas happy, then so be it."

"And maybe that's the part Lucas dislikes the most about you, Mark Lee." Yuta chuckled. "You don't think about yourself. You're too selfless, and sometimes it's sickening. You never know what you actually want because you think everything that you do, it's merely a part of your life—a job, perhaps."

Mark widened his eyes. "Is it wrong?"

"No, it is not wrong." Yuta shook his head. "But the fact you tried to mix it up so much with emotions, _with love_ —that's wrong. Love isn't something you can just see and assume, Mark. You have to experience it yourself to understand. It's not a job to love someone." He added.

Mark stayed silent for a while.

He never thought of it like that, he didn't think that type of emotion was that much of an importance to him. Because like any sweet and lovely stories, everything had to come to an end.

Then heartbreak happened; the very feeling of realizing you're lost in that very labyrinth and no longer was it an endearing presence. No longer was it wondrous, intertwining and intimate; it was eldritch, unfamiliar and bewildering. Oxytocin and vasopressin who once reinforced and deepened your love, now conflicting with a palpitating heartache.

Mark nearly released out a surprised noise when Yuta leaned in, slowly, inexorably, pressing his lips against Mark's. It's soft and gentle and chaste and maybe there's no fireworks or something electrocuting, but it's better than that — it was a wave of warmth, like hot chocolate on stormy evenings and crisp autumn air, spilling out from Yuta's heart to the warmth of his lips against Mark's, before rushing to every corner of Mark's body.

Yuta smiled onto the kiss, his fingers tracing against Mark's cheeks—soft and delicate. It wasn't the type of kiss Yuta would usually give to just anyone, _it wasn't his style_ , but somehow when he had pressed his lips on Mark's — he couldn't help himself. Yuta treated Mark like he was something delicate and fragile, something that was so easy to break apart and shatter. Yuta kissed Mark like he was the most precious being Yuta had the chance to get a hold on to.

"I'm interested in you, kitten." Yuta husked after they pulled apart. "There's something twisted in me that craves to have you, wants to monopolize you, and keeps you all to myself." He grinned gleefully. "That's how much selfishness I have in me, Mark." Yuta grasped Mark's lips, lightly brushing his finger against that soft, cherry edge.

It was almost as though Yuta was both his autocrat self and playful self simultaneously.

There were times when he spoke _as if_ he never fully managed to grow up as a villain himself, part of him got left behind in his childhood, possibly because of his emotions, so tightly wrapped and reined in — violence and harsh brutality were nothing more than a game to him. Yuta enjoyed cruelty for its own sake. Yet, when he stared at Mark like that, it showed the emotions of Yuta's childlike self, a young boy with outstanding deductive and analytical powers yet still, at heart, a child. A normal child with a sense of adventure, perhaps more pride than most, and his own selfishness.

Mark wondered, how would the people around that area viewed them; who sat so closely with one and another, as they smooched each other's lips as if they were more than just friends. There were actually no people or vehicles that passed them, and even though their relationship wasn't something Mark desired to put a label on, it still managed to make his heart beat quite achingly.

But somehow, whenever he started reminiscing about his own memories — with the way Lucas' mouth pulled apart into that beautiful smile, the way Lucas' eyes beamed whenever he was praised for his hard work, the way Lucas' face turned into something cunning when he planned to do more mischief — that made Mark realize, Lucas was indeed the center of his world.

"If I asked you to choose, in between me and Lucas, considering all the things that we have done." Yuta began. "I know without a doubt, you would still choose him over me."

Mark was about to open his mouth, but then he felt a pair of lips brushing over his— _once again_.

The kiss was brief and perfunctory, a duty done, a ritual performed. Yuta flashed him that familiar smile, so charming yet lecherous.

"Hyung..." Mark managed. "You and Lucas are two different people, and it's true—even after everything that we've done, I would still choose Lucas at the end." He showed a soft smile. "You're fun to be with, but sometimes—when you stared at me with such a piercing look, _sometimes_ all I could see is Lucas. It reminded me too much of him. And maybe I can lie to other people, but I can't ever lie to myself."

Mark saw the way Yuta's face turned into confusion for a brief moment, before it went back to his giddy, smiley face—he actually looked like he was about to burst in laughter.

"Oh my god, Mark Lee," He let out. "Did you know what you just did?"

Mark furrowed his eyes. "Huh?"

"You basically confessed that you, _in fact_ , feel something for Lucas." Yuta snorted. " _Aaaaand_ you just rejected me at the same time. Which is hilarious by the way." He pointed out with a playful wink.

It felt like someone had suddenly turned on an internal heater inside Mark's system, his pale skin slowly turned from a ghastly white to a shade of a ripe tomato. His eyes flickered, carefully leering his eyes away as he blushed under the moonlight, forehead started glistening with sweat—carefully nudged himself and his empty soda away. Mark cleared his throat, running his hand to rub the sweat on his forehead, before his face transformed to its former self.

"I think we should get going now," Mark quickly stood up.

"Wow, I can't believe it, the great and cold hearted Mark Lee actually can feel something, _as we all like to call it_ , embarrassment." Yuta sneered at him before he stood as well. "Such a rare emotion I usually see from someone like you."

"Fuck off! Embarrassment isn't an emotion, it is a weapon wielded without a trace of pity!" Mark grumbled with a glare, before he finally stormed away from Yuta.

Leaving the man behind, Mark rolled his eyes in annoyance when he heard Yuta's laughter got bigger and echoed through the entire area.

* * *

Lucas was sitting on the sofa in a contemplative state, the first two buttons of his white shirt undone, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, eyes silently staring into the ceilings. In front of him there was an ashtray overflowing with butts and another lit cigar hanging between his fingers. The room practically filled with the scent of nicotine.

His face was drained with a gaunt expressionless stare. His irises were threaded with scarlet.

Lucas took a deep breath of his cigarette, then exhaled a few seconds later just to let out another cloud of smoke.

"You have some nerve to light that thing inside my office." Sicheng stood by the doorframe, his arms were crossing over his chest as he glared at Lucas.

"What? Want me to get a direct permission from you?" Lucas said offhandedly.

Sicheng rolled his eyes before he walked in to sit on his office chair, Lucas quietly grabbed the cigarette carton and took the last single lone stick, immediately throwing it toward Sicheng's wooden desk. Sicheng watched the way Lucas scoffed before the latter batted his eyes shut, a confused look appeared on Sicheng's face, though he didn't say anything about it.

Sicheng opened his drawer to get his own lighter, slowly pressing the paper tube against his lips. A quick flick of his thumb and a flame was produced, Sicheng bit against the cigarette as he lit up the tip to bring it to life. 

"What's the matter, Lucas? Something bothering you?" Sicheng asked. Smoke left his lips and vanished into thin air as he watched Lucas glowered at him. It wasn't a good habit, smoking, but it was the easiest getaway they could have. It's a practical action and required no thoughts.

Lucas clicked his tongue and took another deep drag of his cigar, slowly breathed out, smoke escaped out of his mouth in a peaceful manner. Sicheng continued studying Lucas' features, he lifted an eyebrow when he saw Lucas started biting hard against on the cigar edge between his lips.

"I want to murder Yuta hyung." Lucas stated out. His eyes sharpened like a knife digging for its flesh, begging to hunt and kill. The man had been plagued by hatred. Uncomfortable with the void, he had filled it with an emotion he felt more at ease—raw anger.

Sicheng hummed, resting his chin on top of his clenched fist—elbow settled against his desk.

"What did he do this time?" He asked—deadpanned, tapping the cigarette on top of a clean ashtray.

"What? You haven't heard anything from Yuta hyung?" Lucas narrowed his eyes, adjusting his position to stare daggers at the older lad.

Sicheng just stared at him with a lazy look — _seriously_ , none of this was his business to take care of, whether he knew it or not, it wouldn't really matter at the end. What he knew for sure though, everything that was happening right then; it must be related to one and only Mark Lee. Lucas often talked about him, and it seemed like Yuta was interested in the younger lad too.

That last thought lit up something inside Sicheng's mind, something fun yet wicked.

"Is it about Mark again? Aren't they dating though?" Sicheng provoked him with a careful, garbled voice.

"What." That sounded more like a statement rather than a question — Lucas flared daggers at Sicheng, the veins on his jaw clenched for a brief moment. Sicheng tried to hold back a smirk, it was rare for him to see Lucas in such a state—the man looked like he was about to explode in any second now.

Sicheng could feel it in Lucas' aura; suffocating the air around him like a rope coiling tight around your ribcage. Perhaps thats how he felt.. something so emotionally challenging that it almost felt tangible, his last ounces of self-control clashing loudly with a roaring, boisterous frustration.

His anger boiling hot, brimming to the very edge; a furious, seething, brewing fury constrained by an unimaginable level of self-restraint.

_How interesting_.

Sicheng puffed his cigar, letting the scent of misty filling up his space. "Don't need to get so tense, Lucas. You know I'm just playing around with you," He sneered. "But it still doesn't change the fact Yuta wants _something_ that's supposed to be yours though."

Lucas scoffed, throwing his cigar on the overflowing ashtray without care. "Your words aren't helping, ge."

Sicheng chuckled. "Then may I ask you, what kind of help do you exactly need from _your dearest_ Sicheng ge?" He emphasized some of the words with an annoying pouty look.

Lucas shot him a glare. "How would the fuck I know? An encouragement maybe?" He rolled his eyes. "Or I don't know, maybe I'm not here for you—where the hell is Kun ge when I need him?"

Sicheng's face lighted up when he heard Kun's name. "He's doing some errands at the moment, why?"

"I want him to console me!" Lucas scoffed. " _And comfort me!_ "

Sicheng clicked his tongue in disapproval, leaned back in his chair with his feet on his desk, fingers were still tugging on the sweet cigar. "Kun ge is a busy man, he doesn't have time to babysit you all the _time_."

Lucas stared at Sicheng with disgust. "You're one to talk, Kun ge babysits you nearly everyday! Remember that one conference we had in Hong Kong? Ge! You didn't even say a single word, it was all Kun ge! He did all the work for your lazy ass!"

"Look," Sicheng exhaled the smoke for one last time before he stubbed out the cigar in the ashtray. "You know how much I hate talking about unnecessary shit, it's not like our economic collapse or anything."

"See? This is what I mean." Lucas spoke matter-of-factly.

Sicheng chuckled. "Hey, at least you have calmed down a bit."

"I'm still angry at Yuta hyung though!" Lucas puffed his cheeks like a child.

"But didn't you do the same thing?"

"What do you mean?"

"Mark hooked up with Yuta, yeah, sure, but didn't you do something similar? In fact, I heard from a little birdy that you have slept with a lot of different people, _apparently_."

"That—that's different," Lucas bit his bottom lip, darting down his eyes.

"How come? Why is it different?" Sicheng showed a mysterious smile, it was so obvious that he was trying to push Lucas on edge.

"I—" Lucas swayed his head for a moment. "I didn't enjoy any of their stay, in fact, I felt quite disgusted—with them and _myself_. At first everything was just fun and games to me, but then I saw the way Mark reacted, and I had a thought....maybe, _maybe_ if I do this, Mark will start paying more attention to me." He clenched his palm into a fist. "But fuck, everything was just so complicated."

Sicheng chuckled. "Lucas, don't you know what kind of person Mark is? He isn't like us, a possessive creature who always wants it all. You might crave for his attention, but that doesn't mean it works vise versa." He tilted his head to the side. "To me, he looks happy enough that he can always be there with you."

Lucas stared at him, wide-eyed.

"You need to stop thinking _just_ about your feelings and your own self," Sicheng continued, pressing his palm over his own chin. "This world doesn't revolve around you, Lucas Wong. Try to put your foot down for a bit, because you're missing out the big picture here." He smirked. "This time, instead of talking about your _idiotic_ self, why don't you go and ask about Mark's own feelings?"

"I-Is that a good idea though?" Lucas muttered, looking unsure.

Sicheng snorted at that. "Are you chickening now? The arrogant and powerful Lucas Wong is actually a coward? If the news about this break out–"

"It's not about that!" Lucas nearly screamed.

"Then what's the problem here?" Sicheng questioned, smugly.

"Ge, what if he rejects me or something? I'm not ready for that shit yet!" Lucas exclaimed. "I haven't prepared myself enough to experience _that!_ "

"Really, Lucas? That's all you could think of?" Sicheng's expression fell. "After all of that wasted vocabularies I spouted to your stupid brain, this is the only thing that get through to your head?!"

"What do you mean?!" Lucas stared at him in disbelief. "This shit is important too! Do you really think someone like me deserved to be rejected??"

Sicheng nearly slapped his own face in frustration.

"Lucas, I suggest you to stand up and walk through that door. _Now_. Before I order someone to actually kill you."

"But–"

"Get the fuck out!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When they pulled apart Mark had to fight the urge to wipe the thick saliva strolling against Lucas’ chin. 
> 
> “I’m starting to realize I’m in love with you too and it’s terrifying to me.” Mark admitted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware of spelling/grammar errors!
> 
> (I continued writing this at 12 am and now it’s almost 4 am rippppp)

Lucas had never questioned Mark's loyalty toward him nor his father — honestly, he never had a friend like Mark before either. Lucas liked training with him, and doing missions with him, and spending more of his time with him. Mark never saw Lucas as a tool who could help him reach on top of the food chains, he never defied his orders, and he had always been there for Lucas. Sometimes Mark let Lucas stayed with him, in his room, and then after they woke up in the afternoon, Mark would always bring them some lunch.

Lucas watched him from afar, his eyes flicked to see Mark's warm breath floating through the air, his eyes were as barren as the moors on a desolate winter morn. The sight of the smoke-like patterns from Mark's rifle was making Lucas crave for a cigarette. Lucas cocked his head to the side, staring at the trembling lad in front of Mark.

"Wong, we can talk this through, just give me the money first."

Mark glowered at another man; who was standing a few feet away from the trembling guy — He was probably the boss here, _what was his name again?_ Mark couldn't really recall who exactly this man was— he's just another small fry Lucas had ordered to exterminate, nothing more.

Jeno and Renjun were standing in front of Mark, whilst Xiaojun and Hendery were beside him. Calm and watchful, staring at the said man's underlings circling around the place—ready to counterattack at any given moment.

Mark clicked his tongue before he sprang to action, finger nuzzling against the trigger point of the gun. His sharp, dark eyes zooming in his mark in the scope. And as much as he wanted to pretend, to act that he didn't know why he acted the way he did — he knew he couldn't, not with the way his heart had sunk down into his gut and started thumping. It took everything in him to keep that disinterested, blank face. He could always fool everyone, but he knew he could never fool himself. Something lit up in Mark's eyes when he watched some of their faces stiffened, and Mark laughed—he wanted to sneer and step on those people as much as he could.

_Let's have some fun, shall we?_

It happened like it did in the movies—the moment played out in slow motion, in a blur of a movement his finger pushed against the trigger and a single shot fired — He didn't miss. _Never_. His aim was precise and accurate, it felt like there was a sudden supersonic impact—the bullet had pierced through the man's head as he instantly hit the ground, half his brains spilling out from its skull as the blood freshly spreading out against the cool cement underneath all of their feet. The underlings could only stare at Mark in utter silence, with expression full of terror and mouth agape.

Then there was a sudden movement out the corner of Mark's eye as somebody panicked and started shooting aimlessly at them, Jeno and Renjun easily dodged before they began shooting as well. Mark completely devoid the tension that was happening right before him — both Hendery and Xiaojun started making their move as well to help their friends.

Mark had killed another human being and he didn't even feel any remorse. He stared as those people dropped dead one by one, killed by Hendery and the others. Screaming and pleading — accompanied with the sounds of gunshots, Mark laughed hysterically when he saw someone slipped to the ground in a puddle of his own gushing blood.

"Mark Lee." Lucas called out his name.

The cold and heartless look reflected on Mark's face had driven Lucas to the edge. The former's hand was tightly closed around the cold surface of the metallic grey colored revolver. He seemed to have no sense of humanity, his heart seemed to be made of stone. There was something dark and evil glinting in his sweet doe looking eyes.

"Do you need something, Lucas?" Mark asked with a delicate smile.

He stood amidst the fallen corpses of their now former enemies, staring at Lucas with that fake cheery and exuberant expression. His hand was swaying around the revolver like it was some type of toy.

Yes. This was exactly how they worked things.

Failure was never an option.

As this game wound to an end, the area would finally be Lucas’ — it had always been so easy like that. Mark had his own fucked up instinct and was too obedient to question about Lucas' illogical and unthinkable demands. There was a saying, _People who can delay their desire for instant gratification have been shown to do better in all walks of career and their financial future_ —but really where's the fun in that?

People would only use that type of statement when they knew they couldn't win nor get the benefits they wanted right at that moment; at the end of the day, all they could do was cowering. This wasn't about gratification or a success path of career, this was about whether you're losing or not, whether you have the guts or not — victory could only be tasted by those who believed in themselves and weren't afraid of the consequences due to their own actions.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Mark?" Rhetorical.

Mark chuckled. " _If we've promised them ought, let us keep our promise._ " He spoke in a soft honeyed voice.

They knew that a simple change of their ways would stop all this mess, but it was too much fun being the pied piper of hell. Dancing with the tune as they watched those desperation grew in the eyes of someone who was once a powerful being.

"Call Doyoung hyung to prepare our cleaners soon," Lucas ordered, eyes still lingering on Mark, he did it so blankly like he was trying to devoid any purpose.

"Yes, sir." Mark simply answered.

* * *

Mark sat ruminantly in his private chamber, his mind was in an auto-pilot mode, blank and serene. His eyes faced through the opened blinds, the sky turned dark and low with ominous black clouds and the wind picked up like a warning—it howled like a wolf in a full moon night. Mark lifted his arm, gazing over the post-bloodstains that had been washed away.

His bullet hit the target with extreme precision. They tore effortlessly through the soft human flesh, allowing the skull to crack and split. Mark couldn't feel a single thing, even after the man had coated the asphalt in a slick, thick red liquid. Blood.

Sometimes Mark questioned his own sanity, whether he was actually _mental_ or not. Because truth to be told, it had been a fun activity for him — he wouldn't say that it was a hobby, but it wasn't something he was against either. Killing people was fun, an entertainment even. And Mark never regretted his actions, what he had done to those poor souls, everything was nothing more than a simple task.

Mark might not be as fucked up or twisted as Lucas, but still, he was _close_ in being one. At the end he was just another sickening human being you could encounter in any daily basis.

He swirled the whiskey in his glass, listening to the chinking of the ice cubes. When the liquid had settled, he brought it to his cold, plump lips—letting the amber fluid sit in his mouth for a moment before swallowing. The soft tender color belied the harsh taste, the whiskey burned on the way down his throat. Mark licked his lips, the expensive bottle was already half empty; usually he would always share it with Lucas, but maybe this time wouldn't be one of those times.

There was no problem to solve, no meetings he had to prepare, no documents he had to read through; there was just an aged single-malt direct from abroad, _Ireland was it? Or Scotland mayhap?_ Mark didn't pay attention to the brand — at first he didn't actually plan to devour the entire bottle, but after that first gulp, he couldn't bring himself to stop— _actually_ , it felt too cruel to stop. All he could do was dwelling on the flavors on his mouth.

Mark came in to his room right after dinner, eager to take a warm shower and maybe a book to read after that. Killing, murdering, executing, eliminating — however you'd like to call it, it wasn't anything new to Mark, especially in his role as someone who had to be on guard twenty-four seven to look after Lucas and the latter's surroundings. Sounded pretty troublesome, but that was indeed his job.

He only followed Lucas' orders, nothing more. If Lucas wanted them to be dead, then it would be Mark's job to fulfill that desire. It had always been simple as that.

Mark was ready to pour another glass, but the heavy steps outside of his door had quelled that opportunity as he stood quickly to send his hand on the holstered pistol from atop his nightstand. When the doorknob clicked open, Mark instantly directed his front-point to the said door.

Lucas stood at the threshold, unfazed and deadpanned. It was as if he's used to this; to Mark's quick and cautious reactions — even when they were already in his mansion.

"Do we seriously have to do this every time?"

Mark raised an eyebrow, pulling away his weapon and placed it back into a safer place. "I guess so,"

Lucas rolled his eyes as he slammed the door shut.

"I'm tired, you're tired, I want company, you're my best company, I'm cold, and you're just as cold. Put the puzzles together, Sherlock."

Mark looked at him over his smile. "Sure, come here."

There was a mutter of thunder from the blackened sky. Soon the rain fell, slow to start, splattering the ground haphazardly. Then it fell as if from buckets, cascading like a waterfall from the heavens. It pounded on the windows as if it were demanding entrance. The violent unforgiving wind raced through outside the windowpanes as the crack of lightning stormed through the dark, cloudy sky.

Mark sat back pensively on the edge of his bed, gazing over the sight before him. A glass of whiskey was back on his hand, swirling the drink every once in a while as he took a few sips between pauses.

Lucas closed his eyes momentarily after he took his seat beside Mark. Listening to the downpour; the drops hitting the panes. Lucas didn't say anything after that, he didn't even mention that this was the second night in a row he had found Mark wide awake on the latter's chamber. Lucas held the urge to question Mark and his insomnia schedule. He was worried, especially after all the things Mark had done in the day. 

It had become a habit for the both of them. Checking up on each other's condition after _a big event_ had occurred.

That day though — _that day's event_ wasn't actually something serious, but still, that didn't mean Lucas wanted to leave Mark on his own. It wasn't as if like Lucas' presence was needed, he just wanted a reason to see Mark.

"Today's performance was spectacular," Lucas began with a chuckle.

"Great? Sure. But spectacular? I don't think so." Mark responded lightly.

"You're so strict to yourself," Lucas cooed as he continued watching the raindrops.

Mark hummed, laying back his now almost empty glass atop the nightstand. " _Lucas is a good head clan. Brave, intelligent, ambitious. Can make his way out of a bad situation. Excellent leadership. Problem is, kid is greedy as fuck. When he wants something, he has to have it. No matter what the consequences_." He turned to look at Lucas. "Your dad said those words to me a long time ago, and I think he's a great judge."

Lucas snorted at that.

"Actually, I have gotten everything I wanted, but the problem with wanting things is that; there would be more things to want." Lucas leaned closer, until both of their shoulders nudged closely. "With that mindset, for example.. you, Mark Lee. I have known you for a long time, and you have always been there by my side. My first friend, my first partner," He paused to stare at Mark's beautiful, starry orbs. " _My first love_." Lucas added with a smile.

Mark widened his eyes at that statement, the warmth of alcohol was ghosting over his cheeks as his chest tightened for a brief moment.

"I thought everything was enough for me, I thought I could be happy—just having you by my side." Lucas continued. "But I was wrong, I still didn't feel satisfied. Having you by my side, staying loyal to me. Those aren't enough. My emotions always get the best of me whenever I find out you are in danger, or when you are having too much fun with other people. I want you to look only at me, I want to protect you, I want to cherish you, I want you all to myself. It's selfish, I know. But that's the real me."

_( "There's something twisted in me that craves to have you, wants to monopolize you, and keeps you all to myself." Yuta grinned gleefully. "That's how much selfishness I have in me, Mark." )_

For a moment there's only the sound of the rain, until Lucas pushed Mark on the mattress, his hands pressing against Mark's sides as he climbed on top of the smaller lad. Mark carefully watched Lucas' expression, so full of warmth and adoration. Lucas was looking down at him, trying to close the gap as much as he could, until Lucas' breathing was the only thing Mark felt against his skin.

"Are you going to kiss me?" Mark spoke, voice low almost like a whisper.

Mark hadn't known since when things turned out this way. As if their relationship had always been like this, he accepted it gracefully. Unknowingly, for some reason, he didn't want any change either.

"Do you want me to?" Lucas husked with a tender smile.

They used to be a pair of noisy kids who loved to romp around the garden just years ago, they played and hassled as if they were fighting with one and another. They watched each other grew into the current human being they're. Mark slowly wrapped his arms around Lucas' neck before pulling him closer. Lucas took it as an invitation and darted his lips against Mark's — the latter relaxed and smiled into the kiss, couldn't help but think of how much both of them have changed over the years.

The strong-flavored liquid on Mark's mouth had completely turned down the volume in Lucas' thoughts. It brought some warm memories; and he let himself dwell in them for a few moments. It steadied him, gave him the resolve to go on.

"Don't leave me, please." Lucas said with a raspy voice.

Mark stared at him, quiet and observant. His fingers brushed over Lucas' locks, pushing some of the strands to the back of his ear.

_( "You basically confessed that you, in fact, feel something for Lucas." Yuta snorted. )_

He remembered Yuta's words.

"I would never leave you, Lucas." Mark ensured him.

It might be that he rarely said it in actual words, but he meant it. Lucas leaned forward, breath and mouth was warm on Mark's neck. His tongue was wet, still feeling that familiar strong flavor. Mark chuckled for a moment as he felt Lucas' hair tickling over his jaw, filling his next breath with the lingering scent of lavender mixing with rosemary. When Lucas had pierced in his teeth, without realizing Mark already tightened his grip around Lucas' shoulders.

Mark felt that exact, same burn drowning in his throat — Lucas pressed his front teeth in a crude way, purposely leaving a long-lasting marks on the other's neck. " _Mine_." Lucas would say every once in a while that had successfully made Mark's soul bleed a little bit. Mark let himself being hurt and wounded just like that, even if he knew the wound couldn't heal—Mark would still let Lucas marked him as he pleased. Like the good whiskey, Lucas was unbreakable, strong, hard, difficult to find—yet always made Mark stayed for more of that bittersweet taste.

Suddenly, it was quiet outside. The short awaited morning was slowly itching closer, Mark guessed it was nearly 2 a.m. yet they still weren't in a hurry to sleep. Mark let himself being pulled even closer. Lucas was squeezing him tight in his long embrace. It felt warm, really warm. Lucas nuzzled his head against Mark's cheek after the latter tried to playfully strangle him — they both laughed together in a way rowdy kids would've played with one and another.

"Mark," Lucas called his name so softly that Mark almost didn't hear it. His arms were soft and heavy around Mark's waist, and his breath was warm against Mark's bare skin. His fore finger was making tiny circles around Mark's cheek. Lucas wasn't the type of person who liked the idea of rummaging other people's spaces, he was a respectful man to his colleagues and friends — he knew when he needed to step in. But it had always been different when it came to Mark, Lucas didn't know how to explain it either—all he knew was that, he always wanted to be in Mark's comfort zone. He just wanted to feel Mark near him.

"Thank you for always being there for me, Mark," Lucas spoke again, eyes closing. His voice was much clearer and steadier than before. It felt comforting in Mark's ears.

Mark smiled as he stroked Lucas' hair.

"I love you too." He whispered lowly, more to himself than to the man before him.

* * *

A long, massive hallway lavishly decorated with a dim rose gold and white color scheme made for a romantic yet regal aura. Even the waiters and waitresses trotting assiduously, approaching and leaving customers with a sharper sense of professionalism. Tables were scattered and draped in a silk white cloth with golden accents, the silverware wrapped in laced napkins. A chandelier hanging from above; an air of alluring sophistication filling the room as its looming presence brightly lit the room.

But the real star was the food. Everything you can think of, and things you have never dreamed of, everything was being served here. Whole roasted cows and pigs and goats still turning on spits. Huge platters of fowl stuffed with savoury fruit and nuts. Ocean creatures drizzled in sauces or begging to be dipped in spicy concoctions. Countless cheeses, breads, vegetables, sweets, waterfalls of wine, and streams of spirits that flicker with flames.

Lucas nearly bit on his fork as he examined the appearance of this impertinent personage who had completely made his blood boil in anger a few days ago. Lucas fixed his imperious eyes upon the familiar individual before him, perceived a man who was older than Lucas by a few years — with black, glinting and piercing eyes, cool complexion, sharp features, and a silver, well-styled hair. The man was wearing a vintage, washed black denim jacket, with classic point color and a contrast tobacco stitching.

Yuta Nakamoto looked exactly like that type of guy who's really into street racing, _probably he is_. He was like a devious fiend, the type of person you'd fall in love with, no matter how many intoxicating alcohols in his system, no matter how many other jackets he owned — his charisma would always flaunt.

Lucas' eyes remained haughty and unimpressed, he was dressed in a dark, red double breasted coat suit with a higher armholes and trimmer sleeves for a cleaner and sharper look, a slimmer fit to create a subtler modern silhouette, wide peak lapels, and shorter length. Also smooth woven fabric, with 71% Polyester, 22% Viscose, 7% Elastane. The brand was founded in East London, they described itself as a product of its surroundings — expect sharp silhouettes, attention to detail, and next-generation fits.

"What's the matter, Lucas? You're not liking the food?" Yuta questioned, pressing both of his hands together as he let the waiter poured more red wine inside his cocktail glass.

"No, this tenderloin steak is actually really good." Lucas tried to speak to Yuta as pleasantly as he could, but his mood had officially dampened because of the man before him.

Yuta of course wasn't stupid, and he wasn't planning to act oblivious either. The man chuckled, taking a bite on his own super-tender, perfectly aged filet mignon; each filet wrapped with a strip of sugar-cured pork bacon; such a classic look and flavor.

"It feels like we're on a date,"

"No, we're not!" Lucas quickly refuted.

Yuta stared and showed a foxy grin. "Don't be such a party pooper, _Wong_."

Lucas nearly rolled his eyes at that.

"Shut it, Nakamoto- _san_." He glared. "Cut the chase and just tell me what you need to convey to me."

Yuta nodded, bringing a fresh crimson strawberry covered with a mountain of tangy sweet whipped cream over his mouth. Rich grainy brown sugar covering the sweet airy perfection.

"Is that so? Even if I had deliberately rented this place just for you?" Yuta showed him a fake wounded look.

"I didn't ask you to." Lucas responded coldly.

Yuta chuckled at that, carefully taking a sip on his drink.

"I have a confession."

Lucas lifted an eyebrow.

" _I like Mark_."

That made Lucas slammed his palm over the table, startling some of the workers there. Yuta waved his hand calmly at them, telling everyone to pay him no mind. Lucas' eyes flashed with indignance and resentment, much like to the type of expression he often showed whenever he planned to kill someone.

"No." Lucas stated, eyes practically evaporating.

Yuta showed a crooked smile, propping his chin in the palm of his right hand.

"Don't worry, I'm not planning to steal him away from you...." He narrowed his eyes playfully. " _Or am I?_ "

"Yuta Nakamoto, do not ever— _defy_ what isn't yours." Lucas managed.

Yuta sniggered. "Maybe if you stop being a _coward so much_ ,"

Lucas gave him a puzzled look. "What?"

"You talked with Winwin, didn't you?" Yuta began. "He told me _nearly_ everything."

 _That fucking scumbag_ , Lucas cursed him in his mind.

"Look, I'll handle my problem on my own. You don't need to worry about me."

"Worry?" Yuta spoke in that dramatical voice. "Why should I worry about you? I'm more worried about my sweet little Mark."

Lucas clicked his tongue, grabbing his cocktail glass to gulp his drink in one go.

"He's not yours."

Yuta grinned. "But he's not yours to begin with, either. I can always have him if I want to."

And just like that, Lucas threw and slammed the glass that was previously in his grip. Yuta nearly bursted into laughter as it nearly hit his cheek, when it fell down behind Yuta's chair—the outburst of a glass shattering had echoed through the entire restaurant.

"Do not fucking touch him. You hear me?"

With one look the verdict was told. It was pointless to try to reach him now, well meant words would only bounce off as good as hard pounding rain. His lethal stare seemed painful and piercing, as if his glare was trying to tear Yuta's heart apart with a blinding amber light.

"Of course, Romeo." Yuta sneered.

Lucas slammed his palms against the table for one last time as he stood up and leave.

"Thank you and good evening."

* * *

Lucas stomped forward under the fluorescent light, finding his own post as he picked up his gun — sharp eyes scanned through the range target, it bided on him to make a move.

Mark had already started his round, lifting back his safety eyewear for a moment as he went back to shoot his targets—precise and accurate. Lucas wasn't surprised when he saw Mark's bullets kept hitting perfectly to the center of the black wooden human-boards. Lucas knew how talented and skilled Mark was.

"How was your meeting with Yuta hyung?" Mark questioned after sliding down the muff protector around his neck.

Lucas clicked his tongue as he loaded his own weapon. "Don't." _I don't wanna talk about it_.

His fingers curling and gripping the handle, veins emerging on his wrist. He pursed his lips, focusing his gaze toward the targets before him. The pistol on his grip felt almost like a bundle of blazing fire. Honestly, it was a cheap way to take something as sacred as a human's life.

Loud, boisterous shots kept piercing right through the wooden targets.

"You're not going to wear your hearing protector?" Mark asked as he watched him practice.

"No." Lucas prompted behind his glass safety eyewear.

He didn't tell Mark the reason why; the bullets continued hitting its targets with extreme precision. The wooden boards cracked and tore effortlessly, almost like the soft human tissue.

As it flied straight into the air with great elegance, the bullet kept aiming to its center. As it pushed through the air with great force, it gained less distance than it was before. Until the moment when it strike the target and all prevailed.

"Why are you answering me with monosyllables?" Mark rolled his eyes, settling his rifle back to its previous spot.

Lucas ignored him. Those bullets were domed, shaped to fly fast and enter the human body to achieve maximum damage. Each one was fashioned to do the very one thing people were never fond of— _murder, kill._ His hands were already dirtied with all of the sins he had committed. _Not that he cared_. They were made to make someone rich who had no need of more money, but money was power in this world and power was a drug almost never refuse.

He took a deep breath, composing his mind state. His brain was digressing — suddenly he remembered the time when he nearly shot Mark on his face. Lucas did not know why he acted the way he did, or maybe he did know but just wouldn't let himself admit to the truth.

"Lucas, I'm leaving." Mark muttered after putting off his safety equipments away.

Lucas blinked his eyes, waking up to his reality as he slammed down his weapon away. Mark turned his head in surprise, showing the former a puzzled look. Lucas strode and grabbed Mark's arm, suddenly his breath was heavy and unsteady — his eyes trembled behind his eyewear.

"Mark, I'm sorry, _I'm sorry_ ," Lucas continued, darting down his eyes as he squeezed Mark's wrist.

"Lucas? What are you talking about?" Mark's confusion turned to concerns.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to shoot you at that night, _or maybe I did_ , I don't fucking know. _Fuck_ , I'm so sorry Mark."

The look of sheer sadness written on Lucas' face made Mark want to comfort him.

"Calm down, okay?" Mark showed a tender look. "C'mon, let's go back inside."

* * *

How long has it been?

Lucas didn’t remember.

Mark Lee was always by his side. Since he first learned how to properly defend himself, or was it when his father decided to teach the two of them their first lesson of life? — Mark had always been there, like the casual air he breathed, like the warmth of summer Lucas had always seek for whenever he felt too cold. It was as natural as how it felt when your feet met the rugby ball, as simple as the object getting bounced with precision into the goal.

As simple as that. Mark was always a part of his life — Lucas' chest thumped achingly whenever he felt the other's cheeks meeting and brushing the base of his palms. It's as simple as how the thing he touched felt so comforting, so soft it would break at any time.

It's an analogy that he himself couldn’t digest, considering Lucas certainly knew what kind of person Mark Lee was. He was just not anyone you could easily understand or relate to, Mark preferred to keep his own thoughts and beliefs to himself.

Lucas was interested in Mark, probably ever since the first time they met. He didn't really give Lucas any memorable first impressions. Mark wasn't a talkative guy, he was more reserved and perhaps a bit distant — but somehow Mark was always there _with_ him.

Mark had a beautiful smile. It was so mesmerizing to look at sometimes it made Lucas' younger self feel flustered unknowingly whenever he stared at it.

_Fuck, he was digressing again._

"Why do like to smoke so much?" Mark questioned with his arms crossed over his chest.

Lucas was standing near the railing in his balcony, taking a deep breath of his sweet nicotine before slowly blowing out the smoke through his lips, letting the night air brushed against his face.

"Sorry," It didn’t sound sincere. "But _this_ thing is my favorite getaway." He spoke more truthfully at the end.

Lucas blamed his father; this addiction he had picked on, it was all because of his stupid oligarchical father. _"That smoke is going to kill you one day,"_ Lucas had told him before, with a monotonous voice and a flat expression, because he knew his father wouldn't _listen_. All he could do was watching the cigarette carton being flipped forward, as his father grabbed another piece of that paper tube—pressing it between his lips.

 _"You should try it when you're older."_ Lucas still remembered the way his father snickered under those grayscale smokes.

And so he did, Lucas tried it—exactly after the day his father had passed away. His mind and heart were a mess, and he thought a single piece of cigarette would comfort him in some way—at least that what he hoped for. First stick became second, then became third, after that the fourth, he only stopped when he had his seventh fill.

This was his one vice, and he intended to make a virtue of it.

"Smoking is a terrible habit to have, you know," Mark frowned at him, severely, though his hand and the way it drifted across those fog above their heads told him that Mark in fact didn't find this particular habit as something unattractive.

In response, Lucas snickered at him—blowing some smokes toward Mark's face, as he watched the latter with full amusement. Mark's sweet doe eyes widened for a brief moment at Lucas' unabashed behavior.

"Smoke isn't the only thing I like." Lucas showed a teasing smile.

Mark rolled his eyes. "Tell me something I don't know," His voice was layering with that much of sarcasm. "You like a lot of shit, Lucas Wong."

Lucas chuckled, a deep one that rumbled at the base of his throat. It was the one Mark always favored, not that he would actually say it aloud, because it wasn't drafted with that particular hardness Lucas was known to have.

The look on his face etched the story of a happy life. His crow's feet spoke of laughter and the tender feeling in his cheeks told of a man who gave away smiles like they were wishes. Mark explored the contours of his face, a work of art — beautiful shaped, his nose was firmly set in place, his lips curled upwardly.

Mark nearly let out a gasp when he felt Lucas' free hand gently ran up and down his spine, coaxing shivers out of Mark. Lucas lighted another cigar and slipped it between his lips, inhaling deeply so that his mouth was filled with that familiar misty taste. Mark glanced up into Lucas' dark captivating eyes. He watched breathlessly as Lucas' eyes studied him with silent intensity, his warm fog ghosted across Mark's face.

Lucas reached out to curl his fingers under Mark's chin, guiding the latter closer till he was close enough to press his lips to Mark's. The shorter lad closed his eyes in anticipation, shuddered a little when he felt Lucas' tongue grazing over his lips. Causing Mark's body to flush with heat — the heat seemed to travel through his veins, warming him. Lucas drew his tongue over Mark's teeth, swallowing the other's sweet voice.

And just as Mark felt a rush of euphoric intensity envelop him, making his heart thumped like crazy, Lucas pulled away.

"I like you the most." Lucas confessed, puffing his cigar for one more time before he actually dropped it.

Unable to resist any longer, Mark tugged on Lucas' collar, slamming both of their lips in another long, passionate kiss. He didn't miss the way Lucas' eyes widened in shock — never expected Mark to make such a bold move. The kiss was sloppy and bruising, with a strong scent of nicotine being exchanged in the intermingling of their billowing breaths. Mark kept purposely grazing over Lucas’ bottom lip — their tongues mingled with one and another, fighting for dominance; Mark‘s lips nearly curved into a smirk when he heard Lucas moaned lowly into their kiss.

When they pulled apart Mark had to fight the urge to wipe the thick saliva strolling against Lucas’ chin.

“I’m starting to realize I’m in love with you too and it’s terrifying to me.” Mark admitted.

Lucas bursted into laughter at that.

“Welcome to my world, Mark Lee. Love is indeed a scary thing, isn’t it?” He cooed.

* * *

Lucas growled and slammed Mark against the shower tiles with a thud. The latter gasped, shutting his mouth quickly when Lucas put his hand against his neck. The cold, slender fingers had caused Mark quivered in silence. He tilted his face upwards, staring at the man with full of anticipation.

Lucas leaned forward, pressing both of their lips together. The kiss was more gentle and soft than the previous kiss they had an hour ago — ensuring and full of warmth, a little more like they meant it. Honestly, they kissed pretty often, but kisses like these were very rare to them, it wasn’t as if they needed to kiss each other like those hopeless romantics people. Their kissing sessions were more than that — it was much more personal, burning, and _possessive_.

They seek each other’s oxygen and comfort space, until there’s finally no gaps between them.

The water rained down Lucas’ back, dripping down and spurting on his spine. Mark could feel the warm fluids pouring onto his face, his hands gripped on either side of Lucas’ shoulders. Mark sharply pulled his head back when he felt Lucas got him up against the wall.

The room was starting to get steamy and hot, causing Mark to groan quietly as he looked for cool air. The only thing that was cold in that space was the shower tiles behind him, but even that wouldn’t be enough for Mark.

Lucas carefully fixed and propped Mark’s waist on the wall before he started pushing his thick member against Mark’s entrance. The latter let out a gasp, nails digging onto the shoulders’ flesh. In response, Lucas gripped Mark’s waist even harder.

Mark braced himself on the shower tiles, his entire body clenching as Lucas buried himself to the hilt, slipping in deeply and completely. Mark moaned loudly, letting himself being drenched against those warm downpours, he felt so full, his prostate were clenching tight against Lucas’ shaft.

He looked so helpless against Lucas. Lucas continued thrusting into Mark, giving the latter no time to control or compose himself. Mark’s mouth began to water as Lucas picked up the pace, the shorter lad’s body quivered from the sheer pleasure. Lucas growled near his ear, his fingers gripping hard into his hips, yanking him forward, his aggressive actions were making Mark feel like his ass was about to rip apart.

Mark opened his mouth to only be stopped by Lucas’ mouth covering his. There were teeth and tongues, sloppy open mouthed kisses. Tongues sliding past one and another. Lucas took a bite on Mark’s bottom lip between his teeth. He wasn’t being gentle in the slightest — all of these felt so messy and uncoordinated.

A fire lit up inside Lucas’ brain, and the warmth spread throughout his entire being. After that, he was addicted, Lucas knew he had always been addicted to _this_. He couldn’t bare to live in a world without Mark, even when he still could barely keep his cool composure when Mark was around. Those kisses were Lucas’ salvation and torment. He lived for the way they tasted, he would die with the memory of them on his lips. Lucas had dedicated his entire being to be with Mark from the moment of their first kiss, _he was madly in love_. For he knew that if he lost Mark he would lose himself too.

 _Love is much like a wild rose, beautiful and calm, but willing to draw blood in its defence_.

Water substances, droplets, fluids—streamed and flowed through their entire bodies. Wet and messy. Mark wasn’t going to break from the roughness, or complain about the steams and the biting. He could go just as hard and as capable as he pleased.

His lips curved into a wicked smile, grabbing some strands of Lucas’ hair before he yanked him backwards, Lucas moaned in that deep baritone voice—eyes flooding with lust and frustration, as if everything they were doing at that moment wasn’t quite enough for him. And Mark knew, _he knew_ what he was doing to Lucas.

Mark chuckled, leaning his full weight back against the wall. “I know you can do better than this, Lucas.” He provoked.

Lucas’ expression hardened, studying Mark’s face with a critical look.

Mark had seen this before, he was familiar to this look. The kind of look that indicated that Lucas was about to do something horrific.

“I’m gonna fucking wreck you, Mark Lee.” Lucas growled as his member hardened and slammed back inside Mark quickly and harshly, the latter gasped as he bit his lip to keep from moaning loudly. Lucas smirked, thrusting and pushing back Mark’s body frame against the wall. Mark’s breaths turning ragged, eyes rolling back in sheer pleasure. His prostate was clenching erratically around Lucas’ shaft.

Mark hissed as Lucas pushed in further for a moment, his hips striding back and forth as he pleased as if Mark was nothing more than a warm hole to sink himself into. A low groan escaped through Lucas’ throat as Mark continued tightened up around him. _Has he always been this sensitive?_

Lucas dug his teeth against the column of Mark’s neck, caging him on his place. Hard breaths and soft moans echoed through the entire bathroom, accompanied by the salacious sounds of skin slapping against skin. Grinding his hips to move faster and deeper, practically didn’t give Mark the time to adjust to his pace.

First Lucas was in all the way, then the next second his hips rocked back just to slip himself even harder inside Mark’s prostate. The latter slammed his head against the wall for a few times, couldn’t resist the pleasure he was feeling.

Mark could feel his vision getting blurry, _but fuck_ —he didn’t want this to stop. He practically screamed when Lucas bit his neck and slammed back into him in one go—rough, fast, hard. Mark nearly cracked his voice, all he could feel was the sheer of pain and pleasure mixing up together. Lucas was being even more domineering and aggressive than the usual, his hips jerking violently back and forth.

“F-Fuck, Lucas, slow down a bit,” Mark managed between moans.

Lucas smirked triumphantly, moving his hips harder and forcefully, his shaft sliding and pushing in and out. And fuck, Mark felt just as amazing as Lucas had always imagined — his walls were swallowing and clenching tight around his throbbing member. Lucas watched Mark’s mouth salivating, shutting his eyes for a few times as he moaned in pain. It was hard adjusting to the pace Lucas had settled in.

Mark’s own length was already hard, flailing freely in the air, as it leaked precum all over Lucas’ toned body and the floor.

“I’ll devour you til even your bones don’t remain.” Lucas declared before he slammed both of their mouths together.

* * *

_Love, a wildly misunderstood although highly desirable malfunction of the heart which weakens the brain, causes eyes to sparkle, cheeks to glow, blood pressure to rise and the lips to pucker._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first food paragraph in this chapter was actually from the book Catching Fire (correct me if I’m wrong)
> 
> Also I hope you enjoyed reading this fic! uwu I had a few writers block but thank god I survived through them lmao 
> 
> I might make this into a series because I actually really want to make a part 2 with WinKun as the main pairing huhu


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